Only Human
by spitfire starling
Summary: DEAD FIC. WANT TO FINISH IT? MSG ME. Harry Potter isn't himself. Can he be pulled from the unknown snare? Eventually, HD SLASH.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Harry Potter is not mine. The series and characters all belong to JK Rowling. I am not making any sort of profit from this fanfiction piece.

---

Fast-paced footsteps echoed in the dungeons of Hogwarts. A shadow of a too-skinny figure scurried along the stone walls.

'What a great day to be late,' Harry thought to himself. 'I wonder what Snape will do this time.' Harry reached the door, sighed, and breathed deeply. He twisted the doorknob and slowly pushed open the door, making a face at the shrieking hinges.

"For the fools that cannot read proper penmanship, that is one pinch of—" Snape paused and stared at the opening door. His mouth developed a sour tinge when he saw the Golden Boy of Gryffindor slip into the classroom. His jaw tightened, a dimple forming at his left cheek.

Harry's face heated with embarrassment, a rosy blush traveling from his cheeks down to his neck. The edges of Snape's lips twitched as he watched the rising discomfort in the Boy-Who-Lived.

"Sorry I'm late Professor. I lost track of time."

"Mr. Potter, your excuses are almost as lame as your marks at this age of term. I suggest you start making it to class on time if you want to improve, though I doubt such an astounding occurrence would actually occur. Fifty points from Gryffindor and a day's worth of detention. Take your seat, Mr. Potter."

"Yes, Professor." Harry's blush returned with a renewed vigor as he heard the students, mainly Slytherin, snickering amongst themselves.

Harry settled into the seat beside Ron and mouthed a greeting to his red-haired friend. Ron nodded and returned his attention to Snape; he needed to pay attention, as his mother sent him a Howler yesterday. Ron almost burned a fellow Gryffindor with his exploding cauldron just last week.

The dungeon door creaked open once more. A blond-haired youth waltzed into the threshold with his textbooks, parchment, and quills in hand. He glanced at his Head of House as he strode into the classroom, a smirk etched into his elegant features. He looked at Potter with his nose upturned.

"I must commend you, Potter. I didn't know you had it in you, skipping half of a class and all. But, it's a start. Finally accepting the right path?" Malfoy chuckled and looked to his fellow snakes for support. They laughed and sent glares toward the Golden Boy.

Harry glowered at the Slytherin, inadvertently giving the blond the satisfaction of knowing that he'd bothered him. Averting his gaze, Harry removed a quill from his bag and attempted to ignore the Malfoy heir.

Snape rapped his wand against his desk and cleared his throat. "One more interruption like that and the entire class will serve a detention!"

The class adjusted their eyes to the irate professor and waited until he started his lecture over. The class remained stoic until Snape turned to place the remaining potion ingredients on the blackboard.

Harry's emerald-colored eyes shifted to the now-seated blond. The sensation of prodding eyes flared at Malfoy's left side. He turned his head left and scowled when he caught the eyes of the Boy-Who-Lived. They shared a brief moment of heartless disdain as the class moved onward.

Towards the end of class, the students' potions all simmered in their cauldrons. Next to Harry, Ron not-so-carefully added ingredients to the green concoction. The cauldron, Harry noted, was the only one around him that was not bubbling slightly.

Before he could warn Ron, the ingredients were already in the mixture, and the potion had turned the color of a murky lake. It proceeded to boil over the tapered edges of the cauldron, frothy and steaming. Ron and Harry stepped back from their seats as fast as two Hungarian Horntails in heat.

The concoction seethed, retching from the iron pot. It snaked down the vessel and burned holes through the table. Wriggling down to the floor, it began to eat away at the wooden planks.

Snape muttered under his breath and glided to the malfunctioning cauldron. Both a cleansing spell for the mess and a restorative spell for the mutilated wood were sounded.

"Mr. Weasley, your pathetic skills have earned you a week's worth of detention. See me after class."

"I'm sorry, Professor," Ron stammered. "I'll try to get it right."

"Trying isn't good enough, Mr. Weasley. Perhaps, if you actually paid attention in class, you would not be such an utter disgrace."

"But Professor, I—" Ron bit his tongue.

"Well, Mr. Weasley, perhaps you should pay a visit to the infirmary. It seems you need to have your filthy mouth cleansed. Twenty points for your insolence. Take your seat, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter."

The class barely contained their hushed laughter before it swelled into an uproar.

"Silence!" Snape bellowed.

The students jumped in their seats and focused their attention to the red-faced Potion's Professor.

"Tomorrow's task will be a _simple_ potion for curing common allergies. I expect everyone to be able to make it — without any foul ups." Snape's eyes traveled to Ron as he spoke. "Class dismissed."

Everyone bustled from the classroom. Well, everyone except Ron Weasley. He was left to suffer alone with Snape.

---

The Great Hall buzzed with activity as everyone began to fill their plates and gossip about the latest rumors.

"Where's Ron?" Ginny asked, leaning forward to look for her red-haired brother.

Harry began to fill his plate with beef casserole and mashed potatoes. "He had to stay back with Snape."

"What did he do this time?" Ginny smirked, knowing that Ron was no master at potions.

"Oh, you know, the usual. He burnt holes through the table… again." Harry chuckled, picturing Ron's potion-making misfortunes.

"Oh, Harry, you really shouldn't laugh. What if you were the one to be stuck with Snape?" Hermione frowned, slight wrinkles forming around her mouth.

Harry bit his lip, thinking for a moment before responding. "Well, first of all 'Mione, I have the intelligence to read ingredients out of a book and replicate the steps."

Hermione stared at him, a look of shock plastered on her face. "What suddenly made you the expert at potions, Harry? I can certainly remember many times that you've fowled up and made quite a fool of yourself! I can't believe you, Harry. It isn't like you to be so... Malfoy-like."

"Malfoy? Why the hell do I get compared to that arse?!"

"Harry, please, I'm not trying to upset you or anything. It's just—well, I'm worried about you. You haven't been yourself lately." Hermione looked at the Boy-Who-Lived, her eyebrows furrowed.

"Hermione, I- I'm fine. I just haven't been sleeping well." Harry sucked in his breath and hoped that his lame excuse would satisfy the muggle-born witch.

Hermione gasped; a look of horror graced her visage. "Are you having nightmares about You-Know—"

Harry cringed. "No, Hermione, I'm not. But, I really have to go. I need to study for Charms."

Harry stood up, stretching his legs. He glanced over at the Slytherin table as he maneuvered to the doors of the Great Hall, noting that the self-dubbed 'Slytherin Sex God' was missing from his usual seat. As the door shut behind him, he sighed in relief. _Silence_.

"Hermione, since when did Harry actually study for anything?" Ginny said, prodding the bushy-haired Know-It-All.

"Never, at least not on his own accord. I've always been the one to remind him of his studies." Hermione sighed. "I think something's up, Ginny. There's something that he just isn't telling us."


	2. Chapter 2

Harry swept through the corridor until he reached the entrance to Hogwarts. He traced the dark wood with his calloused fingertips and nudged open the door, slipping into the harsh sunlight. As he was walking, enjoying the methodical chirps of the songbirds, he felt a looming presence behind him. Whipping his body around, his eyes scanned for any sign of life. Spotting no one, he shrugged off the unsettling feeling and turned towards the lake.

Draco had been expecting for Harry to leave soon after he did. He also expected Harry to walk towards the lake. He failed to understand why he had such a feeling, but he knew that it was an accurate assumption. He had hid behind a sleeping statue, peeking around it as he watched for Harry to pass by the marble figure. After spotting the Golden Boy's sooty hair and fluttering cloak, Draco began to follow the Gryffindor, a soft-footed mimicking of steps like a shadow. Draco didn't know why he suddenly had the urge to follow Harry, but he had felt an overwhelming sense of longing, a certain urgency that needed to be sated. It gnawed at his insides like a rising stomach ache, and Draco wanted to cure the ailment.

Harry made it to the pond, though the entire process felt like a struggle. He crumbled at the edge, his cloak billowing under him like a freshly-spilled puddle of water. He dug the heels of his shoes against the soft earth and watched the mud as it braced itself against his assault. He hadn't even noticed that the blond Slytherin was hovering behind him.

"Well, well, what's going on here, Potter? Are you upset that that the Mudblood is shagging the Weasel and not you?" Draco smirked. "You don't get everything you want in this world just because you are the Boy-Who-Lived-Because-Of-Pure-Luck."

Harry didn't even move, nor did he seem to notice Draco's presence. He just sat there staring at the mud that threatened his shoes.

"What is your problem, Potter? Didn't you hear me? I said, are you upset that—" Draco ended mid-sentence. He growled, cursing under his breath. "You're not worth this, Scarhead."

Harry spoke in a distant whisper, as if his soul was disconnected from his body. "I heard you, Malfoy. No, I'm not upset about that at all. I'm rather happy for them, actually. If you want the truth, Malfoy, I was thinking about you."

Draco was taken aback; his cheeks tarnished with a rosy hue. "Me? Bollocks, why would you think about me? You hate me, I hate you. That should be the end of it." Draco laced his words with a defensive lacquer.

Harry sighed deeply. "I've been thinking about earlier today. Why were you late for class? You came right after I did, and I didn't even see you behind me. Were you stalking me, Malfoy?"

Draco flushed. His mind reeled with possibilities of how to evade the truth. What truth? Draco wasn't sure, but he knew that he needed to fabricate something. "By Salazar, why would I do something like that? I'm a Slytherin, not some prancing Hufflepuff! Malfoys—and Slytherins—don't play games. I was working on something for a Professor, if you must know."

"I don't believe that for one minute, Malfoy. I know that you wouldn't willingly do anything for a Professor, even Snape."

Draco's face paled, a sickly, chalky shade of white. "Listen Potter, I never said I willingly did anything. For all you know it could have been punishment."

Harry stood up and turned to face Draco. "Fine, Malfoy. But why did you follow me out here? Did you want to get an early start on your one-on-one pestering sessions?"

Draco looked directly in Harry's shimmering green eyes. "No, Potter, that wasn't the reason." Draco stepped up to Harry, his breath skimming the Gryffindor's face.

Harry shifted the weight of his feet from his left to his right. He wasn't used to being this close to anyone, especially a boy—especially Draco Malfoy. "T-then what is the reason?"

"That's for you to find out. Call it a game of wits, Scarhead."

Draco's eyes scaled Harry's face, looking from his eyes, up to his scar, and down to his chin. Harry could have sworn he saw the Slytherin pause at his lips, but he decided to dismiss the thought as best as he could.

Harry blinked, waiting for Draco's face to vanish from his view. He held his eyes shut for a moment, eyelids gripping each other in searing anxiety. In an instant of startling presentiment, Harry Potter realized something.

Draco Malfoy made him nervous.

"Potter, _what_ is wrong with you?" Draco said, his lips caught in his trademark sneer.

"Listen, Malfoy… I- I don't know what sort of reasoning you use in that twisted brain of yours, and I don't _want_ to know. Just, please, leave me alone. I don't want anything to do with your 'games.'"

Harry stepped back a couple paces before walking forward and slipping past Draco's stunned form. He needed to get away—and fast.

The wind lashed his cheeks, marring his flesh with a rosy stain. His thunderous steps crushed the soil beneath his feet as he marched back to the entrance of Hogwarts. He needed to keep his mind clear and his path set. He refused to let his mind wander towards thoughts of Draco Malfoy. All that he needed to do was get to Ginny. Yes, she would alleviate the stress that the Slytherin's presense created. She would solve his problems. His tense mind, aching bones, tingling scar... and erection.

His—erection?

Where the hell did _that_ come from?


	3. Chapter 3

Harry smiled as he embraced Ginny. The arteries in his dick pulsated with blood; a release was what he needed.

He murmured an intelligible stream of words and greeted Ginny with a scorching kiss upon her lips. His hands found their way to her back, and his fingers smoothed the thick fabric and tightened against her buttocks. He gave it a squeeze as he smirked against her lips. She pulled away from his grasp, shock emanating from her features.

"Harry James Potter! How dare you?" Ginny reprimanded, reminding Harry of her mother. He had to agree with Ron; she really was turning into a miniature Molly Weasley.

"Come on, Gin. We've been dating for a while now. Don't you think that it's time that we take it a bit further?" His fingers danced across her arm; his thumb found the point of her elbow and gently massaged the skin.

"You nutter, I—"

"Save it, Ginny. I understand if you don't feel the same way. I'll leave you alone, then."

Harry started to turn, to leave Ginny in the hallway. His brained reeled, silently pleading her to change her mind. _He needed this_.

Ginny reached to him, gripping his arm with her slender fingers. "W-wait... I'll do it. Just, just don't leave me."

"Let's find an empty classroom, okay Gin?" Harry glanced at the youngest Weasley, noticing her darting eyes and quivering lips.

He pressed her body against the stone wall. "You're beautiful, you know that?"

Ginny smiled, her white teeth glistening. A light shade of pink brushed across her cheeks. She opened her mouth, attempting to speak, but found that her voice wasn't working.

"You don't have to say anything, just show me." Harry guided the redhead into a classroom. He made sure that the room was truly empty and that the paintings in the room were vacant.

Turning to her, Harry slipped his thumb across her jaw. The calloused skin against her smooth cheek caused her to shiver. A mix of a smile and smirk swept across Harry's face. His hands fell to meet the clasp of her cloak. He unhooked it and pushed the heavy fabric from her shoulders. A soft thud resonated across the room as it landed in a pool behind her heels.

He heard her breath hitch in her throat, and he watched her eyes as they skimmed below his waist. He pulled his cloak over his head, knowing that if the timing was right, she would see the product of his brimming lust.

Growing impatient, the Boy-Who-Lived decided not to bother with the clothing. All that she needed to lose at this point were her knickers. He moved his hands beneath her skirt, flexing his fingers across her thighs. Ginny gasped, obviously expecting a more drawn-out scenario—a magical Romeo and Juliet love scene. Lips twitching, Harry pulled at the waistband of her underwear. His fingers slithered beneath, grazing the wispy patch of pubic hair. He pulled at the garment, watching as it nestled against her cloak on the floor.

Ginny lost track of the time after Harry unzipped his pants. Her mind and body ached. All that she remembered were the memories of a searing pain tearing through her arse and obscenities whistling through her ears. Harry muttered words that she wouldn't have thought that he knew.

He left her after that. He fixed his pants into place, grabbed his cloak from the floor, and walked out of the door.

Scaling down the wall, Ginny met the floor and collapsed. It was that very moment that Ginevra Weasley hated Harry Potter.

---

Harry sat in a bathroom of an unused hallway, alone and brooding. He threaded his fingers through his knotted hair and sighed.

"Bloody hell, what's wrong with me?" He growled in frustration as his eyes darted around the grimy room. The evidence of solitude, even after his outburst, comforted him slightly. The Gryffindor shut his eyes and rested the back of his head against the wall.

"I have to find Ginny," he said, his voice echoing around the room.

Sliding against the wall as he stood up, Harry pounded his fist against the stones. In thought, he nibbled on his lower lip.

Suddenly, his face developed a quiet smirk. The Golden Boy swirled out of the bathroom, pressing thoughts guiding him on his quest for redemption.

---

The youngest Weasley flung herself into the Gryffindor Common Room, her hair wild and her face blotchy, tear-stained. She collapsed on a burgundy couch, burying her face in the fluffy pillows. The room was quiet, save Ginny's muffled sobs that caught within the fibers of the golden cushions.

Harry stood in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady, smoothing his black robes. He muttered to himself and spouted the password in between the strings of his nonsensical chatter. Sneaking in the threshold, he surveyed the scene in front of him. Ginny Weasley, curled into the couch, trembled as she wept.

"Ginny, I wanted tell you how sorry I am for- for what happened earlier."

Twisting her body up and off the couch, the redhead faced him. Her lips caught in a sneer, she gritted her teeth. "Sorry? You're sorry for raping me?"

"I- I didn't rape you, exactly. You said that you would, I mean—" Harry's words stumbled with his tongue.

"I screamed for you to stop, Harry. I cried. Is that not evidence enough?" Ginny's voice was strained and hoarse.

"I wasn't thinking, Gin. Malfoy—"

"Malfoy! You raped me because of Malfoy?" Ginny's breathed raggedly; her face twitched with anger. "Just leave me alone, Harry. Just leave me alone."

Harry stood in the Common Room, immobile as he watched Ginny flee to the girls' dormitories.


End file.
